Tear's of fate
by NikoliKross
Summary: Ten years after Brood War, the Zerg invade the UED. RR and all that jazz. Updated
1. The Captain

He held the ceramic cup close to his nose with a firm index dinger, smelling the aroma of the coffee within; it had a pungent, wafting ability to both sting and soothe his nostrils that only good, authentic coffee possesed. Grown, cultivated and manufactured in Alpha Centauri, Captain Manuel Salvador never drank anything but the most pure and authentic grinds. Alpha Centauri blend was just that; he gobbled the stuff down despite the the fact any more than a few cups a day hardlined one's account and free coffee was offered at several locations on the ship. Battery acid, that synth stuff, he thought, reminding himself of the first and only time he had tried the UED house synthetic blend - and promptly spat on the floor. You'd have to pay me to drink that shit.  
  
Feeling the warm liquid stir his gut in the comforting way only three-hundred-credit-per-sip coffee could, Manuel lowered the enamled cup rim from his moist lips and stared at the display vid ahead of him. It would take more than one sip of coffee to adjust his bleary brown eyes to the standard bridge lighting, however; even at several arms length the sharp display seemed to burn holes right through to his temples. This was another long tedius border patrol.  
He was soon brought out of his stupor by blaring klaxxons, he looked over to his right, at the young twenty-six year old Lieutenant Eric Johnson.  
  
"Report! What's going on?" Manuel shouted to the red haired man.  
  
"Sir, we've got a number of unidentified objects heading our way in a possible attack vector."  
  
"Comets?"  
  
"No sir, the sensors are detecting life signs from the objects. Wait, this can't be right."  
  
"What can't be right Lieutenant?"  
  
"According to the sensors, those objects ARE the lifeforms!"  
  
Manuels opened his mouth to say something when Johnson shouted "Incoming!" and then the Alexander shook violently, tossing a several crew members to the ground, including the Captain.  
  
"What the hell just happened!?" Shouted Manuel, picking himself off the ground and looking at the Lieutenant and then the screen.  
  
"Sir, something struck the hull and exploded. We've got a hull breach on deck two, activating the blast doors on that deck."  
  
"Sir, we've those objects are coming on an attack vector!" Shouted Johnson, staring at his screen, eyes widening. "Fifty small objects and about twenty-five to thirty large objects!"  
  
"Battlestations!" Yelled Manuel, as he stepped back and sat back down in his chair. "Helm, evasive maneuvers, keep some distance between us and them, and someone turn off that fucking noise!"  
  
"Aye aye, Captain" Said the helm officer and the operations officer in unison.  
  
The Titan class battlecruiser slowly strafed to the right, the thrusters lining its left side lighting up in a bright orange color, as they pushed the three hundred ninety-five feet long, two hundred feet wide away from the incoming assault of the stark white Scourge. The Zerg circled the battlecruiser, just barely staying in weapons range.  
  
"What the fucks going on?" Shouted Private Jackson Brown as he and the other ship gunners rushed to their stations.  
  
"We're under attack, that's whats going on! Now move it!" Answered Gunner Sargent Alex Dohan as he sat down in the chair of his gun turrent.  
  
As each gunner took their place, they strapped themselves in and pressed a button, activating the holographic targeting system. Each turrent slowly turned, following the circling Zerg, attempting to keep a lock on them. Suddenly, ten Scourge flew in to attack the left side of the ship. As they did, the gunners locked on and opened fire, blanketing the Scourge with laser fire. Despite the weapons fire, three of the white bombs managed to survive long enough to slam against the armored hull of the ship, ripping a moderate hole in it's side.  
  
"What the fuck are those things?" cursed one of the forward gunners while retargeting and firing at a Mutalisk that flew too close.  
  
"No clue, but those white things are going to kamikazi." Answered Dohan as he cut a scourge in half.  
  
The battle against the Scourge carried on for thirty minutes, which seemed to go on forever. Then, after half the white deathbombs were wiped out, the twisted winged beasts called Mutalisks began to leave the living circle they had formed and attack the embattled warship from all sides. They, unlike their blind cousins, attempted to avoid the pulse laser fire and not hit the ship. They spat out their grooved wyrms, which cut into the damaged hull of the ship and sometimes bouncing off it.  
  
"Status?" Asked Manuel, wiping his brown forehead with the back of his right hand. His short black hair, which he normally kept combed neatly was a mess, as he had been tossed to the ground more than once when the scourge slammed into the ship.  
  
"We're getting hit pretty bad sir, we've got multiple hull breaches. Those winged things have just started their attack and are...spitting some sort of bladed object at us." Reported Johnson, who had blood trickling down his forehead from a gash.  
  
"So, were screwed?"  
  
"Pretty much."  
  
"Lovely." 


	2. The Gunners Mate

Note: This chapter was written by a friend of mine and new co-writer of Tear's of Fate, HarvKilljoy. This chapter obviously would not have been made without him.  
  
On the bridge of the Tyger, all was quiet, much as it had been for the past twenty-four hours. Such was modern combat- periods of insanely boring inactivity punctuated by short, intense bursts of sheer, pure terror. This just happened to be the insanely boring part.  
  
But not for Tom Malcoms, a gunner's mate down in the bowels of the Tyger. Tom had been playing five-card poker with his shipmates, one of whom happened to be the rather fetching Bella Sanchez. Her jet-black shoulder-length hair was one of the many attractive features of her physique, and not the most-noticed by many of her male crewmen.  
  
Those features were far removed from Tom's mind as he gazed intently across the table at her, trying to gage her hand by the look in her eyes. So far, he'd been able to read a subtle hint of glee or dismay in them, indicating her having a winning or losing hand. Now, however, there was something different in those eyes- she'd looked right back at him and something behind the eyes sparked an interest from deep within Tom...  
  
The moment was broken by an impossibly rough lurch to starboard that left the card players and their wares strewn all over the far right bulkhead. "What the foxtrot was that?!" young Blake Elwood had stammered.  
  
"Probably one of the maintenance crew just screwin' up again", Tom muttered under his breath. Those crewmembers assigned to the maintenance sections were either loved or hated by the rest of the crew for either being incredibly skilled in their trades or for being bumbling idiots. On occasion, the maintenance teams were one and the same, depending upon how much liquor they'd taken in on their shore leave.  
  
The alarm klaxons blared throughout the Tyger's corridors, indicating something a bit more serious had just taken place. "ATTENTION ALL HANDS- MAN YOUR BATTLE STATIONS!". It was the Captain's voice, steady but there was a tone indicating just a hint of something most of the crew had never heard before: fear.  
  
A rush of activity blurred the scene in the enlisted's quarters as people flew into action- Tom and Bella headed toward their assigned weapons stations- gun turrets along the dorsal surface of the Tyger. They were met along the way by several fighter pilots on their way, paths crossed efficiently enough through countless hours of intense drilling.  
  
To the casual observer, it was pure chaos. How that many bodies could move that quickly through such tight confines was nothing short of a miracle. Tom slid into the snug confines of his ball turret, just a few meters down the outer hull from Bella's own turret. A practiced eye scanned all of the monitoring systems on his HUD while fingers found their way to switches and controls, bringing the turret online in moments.  
  
A glance skyward gave Tom's innards a reason to feel cold: several score of zerg devourers were easily visible to the naked eye- which only underscored just how close they were. "How in blazes did those mother-fuckers get so close?!" Bella had snapped over the intercom. "Doesn't matter now, darlin'! LET 'EM HAVE IT!!" Tom replied just as tensely.  
  
Tracers arced in crazy streams from the entire dorsal surface of the battlecruiser as dozens of the ball turret gunners opened up simultaneously. The primary cannons came online just a few moments later, their discharges rumbling from deep within the ship and culminating in a bright flash of unearthly light and destruction.  
  
First one, then two, three, a dozen of the zerg assailants disappeared in clouds of blood and gore. It wouldn't be enough though- the devourer's acidic spores were already affecting the slew-rate of the guns- Tom found it more and more difficult to quickly slew the guns around to bring them to bear on new targets.  
  
"Bella- we've got to coordinate our efforts here!" Tom barked quickly under his breath- she'd already scored a dozen kills herself but with the added time it took to spin the turrets around, more and more of the zerg were making it through the network of anti-air fire. 


	3. The Soldier

The large dropships soared through the air, it's twin engines roaring. The pilots pulled back the throttles as they approached the combat zone, dulling the roar. The transports lowered their altitude as they approached and several F-99 Spectre fighter/bombers and B-62 Eagle bombers streaked ahead. In the next instance, the ground was covered in fireballs as the Spectres and Eagles dropped their payloads. Off in the distance, Rhino long range artillary added their bit to the symphany of destruction below. The surrounding area was once a lush plain with green grass, tall trees and a small nearby lake. Now, it was nothing but scorched, cratered earth. The grass and trees were either burned or blown away. The nearby lake was contaminated by the decaying corpses of both human and Zerg. The area was officially classified as X-325. But to every grunt, it was known as the killing fields.  
  
The doors of the dropships were retracted since take off and the men of the 105th Division, Delta Company, Second Platoon watched the explosions as they happened. As the ships drew closer to the battle and their altitude and speed decreased, the men tried to observe through the smoke how the battle was going. They stood, rifles ready as the transports came to a stop and hovered in place over the battlefield by powerful anti grav generators. Every man felt the intense heat from the recent bombing and artillary strikes. Smoke filled the air, forcing all of them to don their masks to filter the air and goggles to protect their eyes. As the dropship lowered towards the ground, the marines inside opened fire, filling the air with high speed bullets driven by electromagnets. Four of the dropships crew members manned the .80 caliber machine guns mounted on the ship and opened fire aswell, shredding several zerglings and Hydralisks.  
  
The men departed the transport and slowly advanced towards the enemy, covered by the heavy machines. Lieutenant Paris Dugalle squeezed the trigger of his rifle, spreading hot metal death into a group of zerglings as they attempt to rush him and his team mates. He knew they had to work fast to secure the area. They wouldn't have the fire support of the dropship for long, as it was too much of a risk to keep even one in a battle for more than a few minutes. They were lucky though, the bombings and artillery barrage thinned the Zerg out some. Then, he heard a scream. Looking to his right, he saw a soldier laying on the ground, clutching their chest as several Hydras bore down on him. Acting quickly, he flipped his rifle (which was slung over his shoulder thanks to a strap) behind backreached behind his back and detached the grenade launcher from his back and using his other hand grabbed a grenade has he popped the launcher open with a flick of his wrist. Slipping the handheld explosive inside, he closed the launcher and aimed it at the Hydras with his right hand and fired.  
  
The top half of the middle Hydralisk exploded as the grenade impacted against it. The other two were sprayed with a mix of shrapenal, acid, entrails and Hydra spikes. Two soldiers finished them off as a medic rushed over to the downed marine. These medics were different than the ones around more than ten years ago. Gone was the traditional white armor. During the recent overhaul of the military it was decided that the armor was more of a hinderance and the result of too many casualties amongst the medical corp. Now, medics wore lighter armor with the standard helmet and were armed with hand guns for protection. They carried a large pack on their back which carried the supplies they needed.  
  
A screeching sound caught Paris's attention and he spun just in time to see a Zergling lunging at him. Both fell to the ground the ground, with the dog sized creature on top, trying to dig it's claws and teeth into Dugalles face and throat. As the creature dived it's head towards the twenty five year olds throat, he threw his left arm up to shield himself, catching the maw of the beast. He grunted in pain as it bit down, driving it's teeth deep into his flesh. He knew he was in trouble. His rifle was pinned to his back, so it was useless to him. He felt around the ground, hoping to find a rock to use as a weapon. He stopped when his hand brushed against the sheath of his knife. He grunted again as the Zergling bit harder, spraying both their faces with Paris's blood. He managed to unsnap the sheath and grabbed the handle, he pull the knife out.  
  
He let out a loud growl as he slammed the blade of the knife into the side of the Zerglings head, causing green blood to come out in long spurts. The force of the stab managed to free his arm and he used it to knock Zerg off him and on to the ground, using the same injured arm to pin the creature down while he pulled the knife from it's head and stabbed it repeatly in the face. After a few minutes of stabbing, Dugalle stood slowly, covered in the creatures blood and a two dozen cuts from when beast was thrashing about. He looked around while holding his arm. The battle was winding down, with his fellow soldiers finishing off the remaining Zerg. He kept the pressure on his wound and looked for a medic, seeing that all of them were tending to fallen soldiers, stabilizing chest and stomach wounds. He knew they were the lucky ones. A dropship would come soon, pick them up and the dead up and take to a nearby field hospital. The unwounded would break into two teams, each with a task. One would dig foxholes and trenches while the other would stand watch.  
  
Hours later, he sat on a mound of dirt while a medic finished dressing his arm wound. The medic had to pull several of the Zerglings teeth out of his arm and covered the wound in disinfectant and sulfur. The dropship had come and gone soon after the battle had ended. His wound wasn't life threatening, so he stayed. He knew they were going to need every man they could get, if they wanted any chance to hold the ground that they fought for. A soldier stopped infront of him and handed him a tin cup of artificial beef stew and a cup of coffee.  
  
This was going to be one long night. He though as he chews a piece of the artificial beef and then took a sip of coffee. One very long night. 


End file.
